


Restricted Section

by veronamay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Library Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-07
Updated: 2004-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Library smut. That's pretty much it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restricted Section

**Author's Note:**

> To [](http://lydia-petze.livejournal.com/profile)[**lydia_petze**](http://lydia-petze.livejournal.com/) for the pronto beta, and for whapping me on the head for reading too much Austen (is such a thing possible?)

It began in third year, during all the stuff that happened with Sirius (before they found out he was one of the good guys), when Harry had to face the possibility that Ron might’ve been killed. And Ron had been worried for months that _Harry_ might be killed, and so it really didn’t take much. With no Hermione there to see reason, they squabbled instead of talking about what scared them. Squabbles led to arguments, and heated words, and then one day they were suddenly kissing.

Things started out simply enough, and it was easy to avoid notice, even in a dormitory. Wait till the others were asleep, curtains closed around the bed; slip out in a pretence of going to the bathroom; slip back into bed – but a different bed, one that was warmer and welcoming and occupied. They knew how to be quiet and found many ways to keep their mouths busy, so the risk was slight. And they never allowed themselves to fall asleep together.

But by fifth year it was becoming more and more difficult to arrange matters. They weren’t the only ones sneaking into beds not their own in the middle of the night, though their destinations were most conveniently placed. Still, there were many occasions when Harry returned from a fabricated trip to the bathroom and bumped into Seamus or Dean on their way out. They would exchange sheepish looks, except that Harry’s always turned into a smug grin when he passed them by. Other times, when it was Ron’s turn, Harry would lie there and hope that this time Ron would just *stay quiet* and not try to make excuses.

Soon enough, it was clear that they had to go somewhere else. The Invisibility Cloak was naturally Harry’s first thought, and he remembered one of the first times he used it, when he was searching the Restricted Section of the library – and there it was: the solution. Ron wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but Harry pointed out that neither would anyone else be. Ron’s objections disappeared rather quickly after that.

The privacy was a new thing. The freedom it gave them was something Harry found exciting. They had hours to explore each other and do things he’d only thought about – things they couldn’t have risked in a dormitory bed. Ron, not being stupid, took full advantage of that new freedom, and their loving turned from sweet and innocent to something with a harder edge that made Harry nervous and hungry for more. They had so much more time to taste and kiss and touch, and he felt he could never get enough. The Dursleys definitely never touched him unless they absolutely had to; having Ron’s hands on him brought a need to the fore that Harry hadn’t realised existed. He wanted to be touched _everywhere_ , for hours, and Ron was happy to oblige. He would stroke and fondle and caress until Harry couldn’t take any more and just _exploded_. Harry soaked up the sensations, trying to get his fill of all the touches that had been denied him until now. He sometimes wished that Ron could touch him so freely all the time, but that behaviour would only make people suspicious. Harry didn’t care much for his own sake, but he knew Ron was terrified of his family finding out. That made no sense to Harry, knowing the Weasleys, but he was content to keep the secret.

So it went until one particular night, when Ron’s mood changed from eager to demanding to forceful, and Harry suddenly found himself yielding in a new way.

They were kissing, Harry leaning back against a wall. The air was humid under the Cloak, and Ron’s mouth was hot. Harry was glad the wall was there to hold him up; his knees had stopped working a while ago, and only Ron’s weight was keeping him from sliding to the floor. Ron planted his hands on either side of Harry’s head and kissed his way down Harry’s neck and along his collarbone. He was silent, as he always was; the habit was too ingrained by now. Harry made his approval clear by pulling Ron closer, slipping his hands inside the thin pyjama pants Ron wore. Ron inhaled and thrust forward when Harry settled his hands on his bare buttocks. Harry liked that; he ventured a squeeze, and Ron bit his shoulder. Then they were kissing again, wilder than before, Ron’s hands moving over Harry’s chest and down to his pyjamas. Harry felt the cotton slide down over his hips and thighs, pooling around his ankles, and felt a scary excitement. He was naked in the dark with Ron. The thought stopped his breath.

There was no time to think about it, though; Ron’s hands were doing things to him, wonderful, familiar things that tonight were more than pleasurable – they were hot, making _him_ hot, turning his legs to water. Harry hung on to Ron and just kept kissing him, unwilling to let go even to breathe. Ron was whimpering, pressing him harder into the wall, rubbing against him in a way that made Harry want to do some biting of his own. He had the fleeting thought that it wasn’t fair that Ron was doing this to him – and then Ron spun him around and pushed him face-first into the wall.

They were still being quiet; but now Harry stuffed a corner of the Cloak into his mouth, and Ron’s face was buried in Harry’s hair as he stroked Harry’s cock and thrust against his backside. Harry bit down hard on the silky material, pushing back and forth into hand and cock, terrified of the pleasure he felt but unable to stop. Ron was close against his back, his free hand splayed over Harry’s stomach. Even in the middle of all this, Ron hadn’t forgotten how he liked to be touched.

The end came in a rush, as the thrusting and the stroking coincided to tip him over into orgasm. He sagged against the wall, trembling as Ron sped to his own climax. He bit Harry’s shoulder again right at the end, leaving a small bruise.

The library was silent apart from their harsh breathing. Ron looped his arms around Harry’s waist and left them there, their sweat starting to cool. Harry closed his eyes and listened to his heart beating, one hand holding Ron’s grip tight.

When they could both stand upright, they left the library and returned to the Gryffindor common room. Neither of them were out of order; all the boys at Hogwarts learned early that certain cleaning charms were _very_ useful, and there was no sign of their activity except the flush on their cheeks. He and Ron stared at each other for a long while. Something had changed tonight; there were things Ron had said with his body that Harry wasn’t sure he was ready to hear. There was still sweetness, but now it was edged with desperation and fear, and a hint of bitter resignation. Harry had the feeling that Ron was far ahead of him in this, and the thought wasn’t pleasant.

Ron stepped forward abruptly and slid a hand into Harry’s hair, kissing him with that new confidence that was really a demand. Harry let him, feeling half-roused again, not caring if they didn’t sleep at all. Losing Ron’s friendship during the Triwizard Tournament had hurt, and having him back meant everything. He wasn’t about to quibble over a few hours’ sleep if Ron wanted ... whatever. Not even the thought of being discovered right now could make him step away; he returned kiss for kiss, reaching up to hold Ron’s face, saying all the things with his lips and tongue that he couldn’t find the words for. Ron let a strangled noise escape his throat and yanked him closer, then pushed him away. They stared at each other again, out of breath, Harry more than a little scared this time but still not willing to stop.

“Go on,” Ron said, his voice hoarse and low. “It’s my turn to wait.” They couldn’t be seen coming back in together; Ron would wait a while in the common room, then go back to bed. Harry looked at him, mute, wanting so many things at once he couldn’t decide what to do. Ron refused his glance, looking at the carpet.

“Please, Harry,” he said. “Go to bed.”

Harry went. But he didn’t sleep comfortably that night, or for many nights after.

END


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